


Bite The Bullet (Not Me)

by thinksleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Sheriff is long-suffering, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinksleep/pseuds/thinksleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles tries to become a member of a pack he’s already in, while Derek thinks he’s trying to leave it.</p><p>Or</p><p>In which Stiles over thinks everything, and tries every option, except just asking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite The Bullet (Not Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, any mistakes are my own, let me know and I'll fix them :)

 

> _Human members of a werewolf pack are unusual but not unheard of, an occurrence can happen due to several potential causes; one, the human is related by blood or marriage to one of the werewolf pack members, two, the human is the mate of one of the werewolf pack members (see section on werewolf mating habits for more), or finally, the human is being vetted for the bite. The first two of these situations usually lead to the latter._
> 
> _Humans in a pack are considered a form of omega, as whilst they have a pack, the Alpha has no control over their will like s/he will have over their betas through the bond the bite creates…_

“Huh.” Stiles’ chews the end of his pen thoughtfully. Obviously the bestiary was useful, and boy did he know that, Stiles’ hadn’t known yetis _existed_ until one crashed through the remains of the old Hale house last year, let alone how to deal with one. They’d gotten rid of it thanks to Lydia’s translation of the yeti section in the bestiary. 

Since then, Lydia had been slowly making her way through translating the entire thing, and Stiles had slowly been making his way through absorbing every bit of knowledge in it. Even if he recognised that it was written by hunters and is obviously going to be biased in some aspects, and downright _wrong_ in others. Like this. It _has_ to be wrong, right?

He, Lydia, and Allison were the only humans in the Hale pack. Lydia was Jackson’s mate, and Allison was clearly Scott’s (and less clearly Isaac’s? Stiles didn’t think he wanted to open that can of worms). Although the word ‘mate’ was an incredibly vague and unhelpful descriptor. But that left him. Stiles. The lone wolf, or, er -maybe not. But certainly not a ‘mate’ of any werewolves in the Hale pack. And he wasn’t a relative of any of them, because while Scott was definitely his brother, he wasn’t a technically related by blood or marriage like it had mentioned in the bestiary, and Stiles wasn’t an expert on these things but it seemed like this technicality was an important distinction. 

Which left the third option, that Stiles was being vetted for the bite. But that was just- no. _No_. Stiles practically knew Derek’s The-Bite-Is-A-Gift speech off by heart, he’d heard it every time Scott complains about his furry situation, even now when it’s more habit than genuine upset. Stiles knew the perks of being a werewolf, he knew the downfalls. But he didn’t want it. He’d much rather hang on to his humanity.

Which meant Stiles needed a plan. He needed a plan to get Derek to keep him in the pack without Derek giving him the bite.

Stiles looked at the clock on his bedside table, 2:14 AM, he carefully picks up the stack of paper that is the bestiary translation (he really needs to digitalise it all) and places it at the side of his bed, then picks up a fresh notebook and a pen. He cracks his neck and settles down for a long(er) night.

 

-

 

The completed list gets lightly crumpled firstly when Stiles accidently falls asleep on it and secondly when it’s shoved under Stiles’ bed unceremoniously the next morning, but it reads:

 

** OPERATION: BITE THE BULLET (NOT ME) **

 

> **STEP 1: LET DEREK KNOW I DON’T WANT THE BITE.**
> 
> _(TRY TO AVOID WOUNDED PUPPY STARE AND BITE-IS-A-GIFT SPEECH)_
> 
> **STEP 2: PROVE WORTH AS POTENTIAL EMISSARY??**
> 
> _(THEY’RE HUMAN PACK, RIGHT? ASK DEATON FOR FURTHER ADVICE)_
> 
> **IF STEP 2 FAILS, MOVE ON TO STEP 3.**
> 
> **STEP 3: GET MAMA MCCALL AND DAD TO GET MARRIED. ME AND SCOTT WILL BE BROTHERS. SORTED.**
> 
> **IF STEP 3 FAILS, MOVE ON TO STEP 4.**
> 
> **STEP 4: STAY HUMAN BUT BECOME INDESPOSIBLE. DEREK CAN’T KICK ME OUT OF THE PACK THEN.**
> 
> _(DUTIES INCLUDE: LOOKING AFTER HIS PUPPIES, HIS HUMAN PACK AND HIM)_
> 
> **IF STEP 4 FAILS, MOVE ON TO STEP 5.**
> 
> **STEP 5: BEG.**

-

STEP 1:

Step 1 was apparently going to be implemented much quicker than Stiles had anticipated. Not that he wasn’t in a rush to get this sorted, he was; he didn’t want the bite.

He just didn’t want to give up the pack either.

But Derek had called for a pack meeting after school at the flat he was staying in while the Hale house was still being rebuilt. He’d sent the text out in the morning, and Stiles had panicked and guilty shoved his plan under the bed. Then laughed at his own idiocy, Derek couldn’t see what he was doing, besides Derek was going to have to put on his big boy pants and accept the fact Stiles didn’t want the bite. Stiles was going to go to the flat after school and just tell him. Just like that.

But, what if Derek just kicked him out of the pack there and then?

What the hell would Stiles do then? 

“Mr. Stilinski, are you paying attention?”

Double shit. 

-

Stiles had been a bundle of nerves the entire day, he’d been told off by two teachers for zoning out, been subjected to Scott’s confused puppy face all day, and given a detention by Harris. Which is why he was now late. To the pack meeting.

Everyone looked up as he let himself into Derek’s apartment, he didn’t know why, they could probably sense when his car turned down the street. Although, he’d worked himself up so much on the way here, his chest already felt tight at the thought of losing his pack and his heart was beating double time.

“Stiles.” Scott says slowly, as if trying not to spook an animal, “Are you alright?” Allison and Isaac give him matching concerned looks from where they’re sat either side of him. So not opening that can of worms.

“Yep.” He grimaces, before taking a seat on the floor next to them. With those three on that sofa, Derek stood up, and the rest of the pack crammed onto the other sofa it was the only space left. “So, what’s the pack meeting about? New Monster of the Week? Deaton’s turned himself into a rabbit?-”

“Derek was thinking about implementing a pack movie night once a week.” Lydia cut him off, her tone of voice strongly implying it wasn’t so much Derek’s idea as Derek had been told it was his idea. Stiles didn’t care what the bestiary said about human pack members being the weak omegas of the pack, Lydia was at the very _least_ a beta, maybe because of the whole healing-from-the-bite-but-actually-having-been-bitten, or maybe it was just because Lydia was _Lydia._

“Oh. Okay.” He replied.

“We figured it would help pack bonding.” Isaac tacked on.

Stiles wondered if that included him. He was pack for now, sure, but once he told Derek he didn’t want the bite, that he was never planning on having the bite, what then?

“Mmhm.”

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?” Erica said, “You’re late and you stink of anxiety and fear, what happened.” It was less a question and more of a demand.

“And you’ve been distracted all day.” Stiles looked into Scott’s earnest face. He hadn’t realised the slight tension in the room, he probably should have since a room full of werewolves is not a quiet, polite one, that waits for individual turns in talking, especially not if Stiles is there, he’s normally talking over people with the best of them. Stiles wonders if they’ll still let him come to pack meetings if he’s no longer pack, he knows about the supernatural and he can do research, maybe he can be pack-adjacent, maybe this won’t be so bad.

He just needs a way to let Derek down gently, subtly edge up to the topic and carefully let Derek know that it might be a possibility that he may not want the bite at this point in time, and maybe later approach the topic of never having the bite.

“Well?” Erica lifts one perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I don’t want the bite.” Stiles blurts, “Ever.”

Several more eyebrows shoot up around the room. Stiles glances at Derek; there’s a tiny bit of hurt there, if you look close enough, but no surprise. Derek knew Stiles didn’t want the bite. _He already knew._

What does that mean?

Does that mean Stiles already isn’t pack? Has he been deluding himself in thinking he was, maybe he’s already pack-adjacent. Holy shit.

He needs to operate Step 2 ASAP.

**-**

STEP 2:

“Deeaaaton.” Stiles pounded on the locked door. It wasn’t too late, only an hour after closing, Deaton should still be there. “Deaton please, it’s an emergency!” Okay, so maybe an emergency of differing definition between the two of them. But Stiles was going to lose his pack, his friends, everything. That constituted an emergency.

“How can I help you, Stiles?” Stiles yelped, he’d been _watching_ the door, how-? Stiles resigned himself to having a heart attack aged 30 and pushed passed Deaton.

“You said I had a spark, I need you to teach me.”

“Teach you what exactly?”

“Magic.”

Deaton narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Stiles, almost searching for something. He hummed before finally nodding and started on a lecture about belief, and magic being an extension of one’s self and therefore difficult to teach.

“Everyone has some form of a spark, Stiles.” He said, “Some stronger than others, but it’s like… building muscle, some people start off with better odds, some people gain it faster, but it does not mean it can’t be increased or that someone with a lesser spark can’t excel as well, it’s all about belief, practise, and patience.”

“So, I couldn’t, say, master it in a week?”

Deaton gave him a flat look.

- 

Stiles wished his life was a movie, and then he could have some sort of magic training montage, maybe to a cool song like ‘A Kind Of Magic’ by Queen or ‘Magic’ by B.o.B.

“ _’I’ve got the magic in me…’_ ” Stiles sings to himself, because he’ll be his own training montage if he wants, goddammit. Plus Deaton had banned him from playing music in his operating room. Which Stiles was allowed to use. For _magic_ training. Okay, so despite the situation that lead Stiles to magic training, he kind of felt a little bit like Harry Potter. Although Stiles hadn’t gotten passed levitating things two foot off the table and creating a small flame in his palm, he needed to be able to throw people around during fights, and throw balls of fire from his hands like a human flamethrower. Deaton said he’d made great progress in the past three weeks he’d been at this but Stiles was not known for his patience and he was on a tight schedule.

A text came through on his phone from Scott about another pack meeting. Stiles had missed every pack meeting since he blurted out he didn’t want to be bitten. His absence was partially due to magic training _every night_ (Jesus Deaton) and partially due to Stiles’ plan that if he didn’t see Derek, Derek couldn’t officially kick him out of the pack.

 

 

> **3 unread text messages:**
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> pack meeting @ derek’s tonight plz come
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: Catwoman]**
> 
> Get your ass here, this is no longer funny.
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: Queen Lydia]**
> 
> Why are you avoiding us? Don’t think I won’t find out.
> 
>  
> 
> **Send text message:**
> 
> **[To: PuppyWolf, Catwoman]**
> 
> Can’t, I’m busy.
> 
>  
> 
> **[To: Queen Lydia]**
> 
> There’s nothing to find out.

 

Stiles had sent the reply off to Scott and Erica automatically, he’d been doing it for the past three weeks, he knew in a few minutes he’d get a sad text off Scott saying he’d keep him updated on the meeting, and one off Erica threatening his balls.

The one off Lydia made him pause, he’d been avoiding Derek so he wouldn’t be kicked out of the pack, but had he really been avoiding the rest of the pack too? His evenings had been taken up by magic training so he’d had to cancel a few times on evenings out and such, but he’d talked to them in school surely? Stiles tried to think back to the last time he’d spoken face to face with a member of the pack that hadn’t been Scott. He’d asked Isaac for a pen the other day? Come to think of it, Isaac’s face had lit up when Stiles turned to him, only to fall when Stiles had only asked for a pen. Holy shit he had to make this up to them, it was no good becoming an emissary if the pack didn’t want him around.

Stiles looked back at his phone.

 

 

> **7 unread messages:**
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> derek asked where u were
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> he looks sad
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: Catwoman]**
> 
> I’m going to eviscerate you. Slowly.
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> apparently theres a witch in town
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> derek says were gonna go after her. his plans aren’t as good as yours
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: PuppyWolf]**
> 
> allison and isaac say hi
> 
>  
> 
> **[From: Queen Lydia]**
> 
> Don’t lie to me Stiles.

 

Stiles starts forming a plan in his mind. He needs to prove to the pack that they need his magic. He’s going to take this witch out on his own. Foolproof.

Ish.

Deaton is still working out front, doing the register possibly. Stiles furtively glances around before grabbing the book of spells off the table and racing home in the Jeep.

 

-

 

Getting the rest of the information about the witch out of Scott was easy, he seemed so happy Stiles was asking about the meeting he told Stiles everything without the hint of suspicion. Stiles felt incredibly guilty about that.

Stiles also felt incredibly guilty about stealing Deaton’s book of spells, but the emissary had been holding out on him, so Stiles didn’t feel _too_ guilty. There was all sorts of cool spells Deaton had neglected to tell him, admittedly they were slightly above his abilities, but what had Deaton said; belief and practise. And maybe something about patience but Stiles didn’t have time for it. He was on an even tighter schedule than before. Derek and the rest were going out on Friday night to question the witch on her intentions in the Hale territory. So Stiles was going to go on Thursday evening.

It was Wednesday.

Stiles poured over the book for hours, only surfacing to attempt spells he thought were within his range of abilities, or sometimes just pushing that line. Stiles found he was particularly good with protection spells, he’d managed to put a temporary shield around his desk chair, and then thrown pens at it, they’d all bounced off the shield. Even the fact that one ricocheted off into his eye couldn’t stop his smile.

He even found a spell that kept you awake, although he was still a bit of a novice at it and had to keep casting it every 20 minutes or so.

But what he was really looking for was healing spells. All of which looked ridiculously hard, except for the ones that dealt with small injuries. But Stiles was realistic, being in a werewolf pack, he was going to be dealing with major injuries and he needed to be prepared. He kept pushing himself and pushing himself until his body forced itself to sleep around 6AM, no matter how many spells he cast to keep himself awake.

He slept straight through his alarm at 7, and through his dad shouting at him from downstairs. He finally awoke to his dad shaking him forcefully into the land of the conscious.

“Stiles! Stiles, are you with me?” He dad asked frantically.

“Mmwha’?” Stiles was having trouble opening his eyes, maybe those Stay Awake spells had an after effect, or maybe doing magic just drained him, he always felt a little drowsy after Deaton’s sessions. Stiles finally blinked his eyes opened lazily.

“Jeez kid, I thought you… you weren’t waking up for a minute there.” His dad glanced down at Stiles’ arm, where several healing scratches were, remnants from testing the healing spells last night. “Maybe I should get you to the hospital.” He said gently.

“No!- no, I’ll be fine, just gonna be late for school.” Stiles dragged himself off the floor and tried to kick the magic book- so far unnoticed by his dad- under his bed. Stiles started stripping off yesterday’s clothes in a haze of sleep, the Sheriff gave him a concerned look before leaving.

“Right.” Stiles sighed to himself. “School.”

 

-

 

Stiles almost drives off the road on the way to school.

He walks into several walls when he gets there.

Falls asleep in his History class.

He wakes up slightly after he’s had food but not enough not to look like a zombie shuffling round the school all day.

 

-

 

By the time he heads out into the woods in the evening he feels properly awake again, although his dad had been giving him concerned looks all throughout tea, he kept glancing at Stiles’ arm like he was going mad, the cuts had healed completely, no trace they’d been there (fuck yeah, magic). He looked like he was going to physically restrain Stiles from leaving when Stiles said he was going round to Scott’s house.

But he was here.

In the woods.

Stiles could see his breath in front of him. When he got back home he was going to look up a spell to keep warm, it would come in handy when he was running around with the pack on full moon nights- that was, if they took him back, which was why he needed to prove he was useful, a useful emissary that could take care of one little witch-

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here.”

“Holy sh-” Stiles twisted around and almost ended up on his arse, except for the fact that Derek had gripped a hold of his arms to stop him falling.

“What are you doing here.” Derek gritted out between his teeth.

“Urrr, the witch?”

“You came out here to find the witch _on your own?_ ”

“Yes?”

Derek growled low in his throat before dragging him back the way he’d come. “The _pack_ is looking for the witch tomorrow.”

And ouch, that one hurt, Derek wasn’t even bothering with the pretence that Stiles was pack.

“Go home, Stiles.”

“But-”

“Go _home_.”

 

-

 

“You’re back early, how was Scott’s?” His dad sounded relieved when Stiles had walked through the door, less than an hour after he’d left.

“Awful.”

 

-

 

Stiles was complaining to Deaton, after sheepishly returning the spell book, about the fact he couldn’t be an emissary for the Hale pack if Derek didn’t trust him.

“This was about becoming the Hale pack emissary?”

“Yes.” Stiles said, looking up from where his head had been rested against the clinic’s operating table, he hoped Deaton cleaned this thing.

“Then you need emissary training, not magic training.”

Stiles let his head fall back against the table.

 

-

 

STEP 3:

Okay, so given the time he’d already wasted on Step 2, Stiles needed to speed up the process of Step 3 by ten-fold, he wasn’t going to be able to skirt around the topic like he’d planned.

His dad was already downstairs so Stiles was just going to go for it.

His phone rang.

“Hello?” Stiles was only half listening, he was trying to work out how he could ask his dad if he could do Stiles a favour and marry Melissa McCall, in the next week or so, preferably.

 _“Stiles,”_ Derek’s voice sounded relieved, Stiles didn’t know why. Admittedly he may have missed a few calls, and texts over yesterday but he’d been busy planning. The only text he’d read had been off Scott, telling him the pack had dealt with the witch.

_“Stiles I really need to talk to you.”_

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” 

 _“Please, Stiles”_ That brought Stiles’ train of thought to a grinding halt, he didn’t think he’d ever heard Derek say please, or sound this desperate.

“Okay, fine, what do you wan-argh!”

Derek had just climbed through his window.

“Were you out there the entire time?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda creepy.”

“Look, Stiles, I wanted to talk to you about the pack-” Holy shit, this is it, this is where Derek kicks him out of the pack, Stiles can’t do it, he can’t lose his pack, they’re like his family; a very dysfunctional, sometimes furry, always hormonal, family. He’s not ready to lose it.

“Stiles, you- you look like you’re about to cry,” Derek takes a step forward, “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Stiles snorts, how on earth did Derek think this wasn’t going to hurt him. “I just need- we need you to tell us what’s wrong, you don’t come to meetings anymore, the others say you ignore them at school, I’ve seen you once in the last month, and it was when you snuck out to try and interrogate the witch on your own, do you not trust us anymore, do you not want to be p- please, Stiles, please come back.”

“But, but I thought-”

“What?” Derek looked so hopeful, like he knew Stiles was on the verge of something, Stiles wanted more than anything to see the pack again, and Derek didn’t seem like he wanted to kick Stiles out. Stiles felt a little guilty about ignoring the pack, he hadn’t meant to, he was just trying so hard to keep them in his life. It had made sense at the time.

Stiles only noticed now that Derek had been moving closer to him, step by step, he hadn’t realised how much he missed Derek, just seeing him, being in his presence.

He may have shuffled forward a little. May have.

“I want to come back, I do, I didn’t mean to ignore the pack I promise,”

“Come back then,” Derek had a small smile of his face, he lifted his arm, presumably to put it on Stiles’ shoulder, but Stiles’ bedroom door swinging open interrupted the movement.

“Stiles, you said you wanted to talk to me about relationsh-oh.” The Sheriff stood awkwardly in the doorway as he observed the scene. Derek and Stiles were stood almost toe-to-toe next to the bed, Derek’s hand still hovering halfway in the air.

“Um.” The Sheriff’s eyes darted from the two of them to the still open window, “Did you really come in through the-”

“Yes.” Derek said at the same time Stiles said “No.”

The Sheriff’s eyes lingered between the two, who had still not moved apart, “Well, make sure to use the door on the way out.” He gave one last sweeping stern look before he closed the door behind him.

“Well, that was weird.” Stiles was still facing the spot his father had been in just moments ago.

“Yeah, I should probably go, there’s um, there’s a pack meeting tomorrow, you should, you should come.” Derek says awkwardly, taking a few steps towards the window before stopping, turning, and even more awkwardly leaving through the door.

Stiles heard Derek walking down the stairs before a mummer of voices, and then the front door closing.

What just happened.

 

-

 

Stiles was unsure on where he stood in the pack, or if he was in it at all. Last night Derek hadn’t seemed to want him to leave, in fact, he’d gone as far as asking him to come to the meeting today, but maybe that was just because the pack had missed him, Derek had talked about that hadn’t he? Maybe he just wanted the pack to stop moping in his absence, he wasn’t sure all of the pack was upset, but Stiles knew Scott could be a powerful moper when he wanted to.

Stiles’ dad was waiting for him when he came down in the morning for breakfast. He was sat down already, casually looking up when Stiles entered. Too casually.

“Hey, son.” He said in an unnervingly calm voice.

IT’S A TRAP, Stiles’ brain shouted at him. There were pancakes on the table and everything.

“Hey dad.” He said, as he took the seat opposite.

“So we didn’t get to have that talk about relationships like you wanted last night, before Derek got here.” He dad pushed the plate of pancakes towards him. They had chocolate chips in them. Stiles thanked him and took a hesitant bite.

“I understand maybe why you didn’t tell me earlier; I know Derek’s a bit older, and he’s been arrested but I support your decision to date who you like, as long as they make you happy.” Stiles sprayed pancake crumbs everywhere.

“Being completely honest, Derek obviously wouldn’t be my first choice, _although he might have been my first guess,_ ” his dad muttered the last bit; ploughing on through the conversation regardless of the fact Stiles still hadn’t picked his jaw up yet. “But I had a word with him last night before he left and he seems nice enough, and worried enough about you-”

“Dad, Derek and I aren’t dating.”

“Obviously. You’re both still skirting around each other by the looks of things, but I’m not stupid, I know when-”

“Dad, I’ve got to go,” Stiles quickly stood up, and tried to flee the house, he’d almost made it to the door when his dad asked, “Where’re you going?”

Stiles cringed, “Derek’s?”

His dad just gave him a knowing smirk, and resumed eating his own pancakes.

 

-

 

Stiles didn’t know if Step 3 could be counted as a failure or not, but seeing as he wasn’t mentioning the word ‘relationship’ around his dad for the next couple years, _just to be safe_ , Stiles had decided to move on to Step 4.

 

-

 

STEP 4:

Okay, Step 4, this better work, or else Stiles was going to run out of steps very quickly. He could so become indispensable. He would be the embodiment of indispensability. The very height of indispensableness. One could not dispense him.

Stiles may be stalling.

But _how_ does one become indispensable?

He had the car ride to Derek’s to figure it out.

He just had to focus. 

…

Was indispensableness even a word?

 

-

 

It had taken the ten-minute car ride, plus the extra five minutes stuck in traffic, plus a quick detour to the bakery on route to Derek’s, and Stiles still hadn’t figured out if indispensableness was a word.

He’d have to Google it later.

He also hadn’t figured out how to become indispensable either. But at least he had cookies now.

 

-

 

As it turns out Stiles is a natural at indispensability- (and really, he was going to have to stop using that word, it was starting to sound weird)- because as soon as he walked through the door he got eight grins varying in happiness; from Scott’s ear to ear grin, to Boyd’s small grin, Jackson’s ‘I’m-secretly-pleased-but-too-cool-to-emote-it’ smile, and Derek’s bunny teeth smile. Stiles once told him he couldn’t unleash the bunny teeth smile, it was too cute and like, false advertising, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a wolf with bunny- teeth… Stiles was on his third red bull at about two in the morning, he can’t be held accountable for what he said. He may also have patted Derek’s cheek that evening and whispered ‘night bunny wolf’ at him, but if such a thing had happened Stiles would be sure to take it to his grave.

Despite the different degrees of pleasure to see him, he still had eight smiling faces to greet him when he entered Derek’s apartment, which was kind of heart warming, or it was, until Erica’s nostrils flared and her grin went from ‘I’m pleased and also smug’ to ‘hungry shark that’s just smelt blood’, “Cookies?” she asked. Or, it would have been asked, if Stiles felt he even had the option to not share them.

Stiles didn’t end up having any of the cookies _he bought_ , but he did have a happy pack, and therefore a happy Derek, so it wasn’t a complete fail. In fact, maybe he should bring food round more often.

 

-

 

Stiles was a genius.

Well, not literally, he wasn’t Lydia’s level of intelligence, but he was pretty damn good.

Werewolves were like black holes for food disposal, how had he not thought to feed them to gain love before? It would have saved him a few injuries courtesy of mostly Erica, because since he brought the cookies to Derek’s the pack had been incredibly gentle with him, well, as gentle as a pack of werewolves can be with a squishy human. Still, progress. Isaac even opened a door for him the other day. Jackson _smiled_ at him, properly. Okay, so that one was a bit weird but the rest of the pack were being so nice to him.

Almost too nice.

Oh shit.

Where had he gone wrong?

He brought them food; from the expensive bakery, he was constantly asking if they needed anything picking up, he was constantly picking stuff up for them, giving them lifts around town, he even did Boyd’s laundry once! Although when Derek found out he growled and glared at Boyd and Stiles hasn’t been asked again since.

Stiles was going to have to step up his game.

 

-

 

“What are you doing?”

Stiles glanced up at Scott’s pained face before getting back to the job at hand.

“Cleaning. Have you never seen Derek’s face when people put their feet on his table, he looks like he’s been stabbed.”

“You’re doing this for Derek,” Scott’s face twisted, “Did he ask you to do this?”

“Mm? No, of course not, he just sits there and glowers at the table, hoping it’ll tidy itself if he scares it into submission.”

Derek’s apartment is blissfully silent for a few minutes, except for the sound of Stiles’ cleaning.

“Look Stiles, we need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

“This! This whatever-it-is the helping people thing, Derek talked to Boyd about the laundry but he just said he was curious to see if you’d actually do it, but Erica getting you to take her all over town and- and Lydia basically using you as a servant to go clothes shopping, can’t you see they’re just taking advantage of the situation for as long as they can get away with?”

“I don’t mind helping, I just want the pack to like me!” Stiles snaps, he wanted to get the cleaning finished before Derek gets back.

“What?” Scott face went from indignant on Stiles’ behalf to confused in record time.

“I just- I wanted to be pack,” Stile sags against the table, he was probably getting cleaning stuff on his shirt but he’d been so busy the past week looking after the pack, he just wanted a rest. Plus, he hadn’t spoken about the pack thing to, well, anybody really, it felt nice to get it off his chest, “I tried to be an emissary but I got the training mixed up and I was going to see the witch but Derek stopped me and told me ‘ _the pack was dealing with it_ ’, and then I tried to get my dad and your mum to get married so I could be your actual brother, but my dad just thinks Derek and I are dating and then Derek visited and he said I should come back to the meetings and that I’d been ignoring you guys but I didn’t mean to and I felt bad, so then I tried to become indispensable- and I still don’t know if indispensableness is a word- and I knew some of the pack was taking advantage but they were all acting _too nice_ , like the too nice when someone has bad news to tell you like ‘ _you’re not pack, go away’_ and tries to soften it with being nice so I thought if I was helpful you’d keep me around and-”

“Stiles!” Scott was a little wild-eyed at this point, Stiles was trying to discreetly draw in breath and pretend that word vomit hadn’t winded him slightly. He wanted to get that off his chest more than he thought.

“First, you _tried to deal with the witch on your own_? Second, _you tried to set my mum and your dad up?_ When?” Scott was going to strain something if he kept up that mix of horror and incredulity on his face. “What? Also, the pack started acting nice because Derek told us we didn’t appreciate you enough and that you wanted to leave the pack.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“That’s what I told him, but he just ranted that we didn’t appreciate you enough, he was furious at the guys for taking advantage of you, dude, and I’ve been learning that whole emotion-scent thing, and Derek smelt really scared when he said you’d leave.” Scott shuffled up closer to Stiles and whispered, (as if Derek might pop his head out from behind the curtains) “I think he really likes you, like, _really_ likes you.” His eyes wide, trying to convey meaning.

“Derek doesn’t, that not-”

“Dude, trust me.” Scott’s eyes were huge at this point, Stiles was slightly worried for him.

Derek doesn’t like Stiles. Derek tolerates him at best. Especially since he must be able to smell that Stiles is attracted to him, hell, the whole pack probably can, maybe that’s why they don’t like him, maybe he’s making them all uncomfortable by his unintentional olfactory advances towards their Alpha.

“Whatever you’re thinking; stop it.” Scott says firmly, “Go home and have a nap, I promise you it will be fine.” In the face of Scott’s earnest, well, _face_ , Stiles nodded his conceit, “Let me just finish-” he made for the cleaning supplies.

Scott frog-marched him to his car.

 

-

 

STEP 5:

In light of the fact that Stiles had no idea what was going on anymore, he’d just decided to cut his loses and move on to the final step. Begging.

He would just have to beg Derek to let him be in the pack, he knew Scott would have his back, so he probably would also have Allison and Isaac’s, they liked him, sure, but it would be mostly down to Scott to get him those votes. Lydia liked having him around because, and Stiles quotes ‘he’s reasonably intelligent company to have around’ and that’s got to count for something, right? and if he has Lydia’s vote, he can probably include Jackson’s, but neither of them are definite votes. Erica and Boyd’s are up in the air, along with Derek’s. He might be able to salvage a majority vote.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Stiles jumps, he hadn’t even heard his window opening; he didn’t know if it was from silent werewolf skills, or the fact he’d grown so used to the sound his brain didn’t see it as a threat, both options were horrifying.

“You can’t hear me thinking, you’re sense aren’t _that_ good.” Stiles side eyed Derek from where he was shuffling towards where Stiles was led on the bed.

“If I could, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“What mess?”

“You trying to get into the pack.” Ouch. That hurt. Derek must have read it in his face, “No-that’s not- _you’re already in the pack, you moron!_ ” he blurted.

“No, I can’t be in the pack, the bestiary said so.”

“Scott told me you were trying to become pack- what does the bestiary have to do with it?”

“It says the only humans in packs are either related to a werewolf member by blood, marriage, being mates, or the human is going to get the bite. I’m not related by blood or marriage to any of you, despite my aborted attempt to get dad and Melissa together, and I’m not dating any of you, I reasonably concluded that I was therefore being vetted for the bite. Which I don’t want. When I brought it up you already knew I didn’t want it. So, if you knew I wasn’t part of any of the criteria for being a human in a werewolf pack, why did you keep me around? Research? Because I was thinking I could be pack-adjacent-”

“Stiles! For Christ’s sake. You. Are. Pack.” Derek was looming menacingly over his bed. “The bestiary isn’t the be-all and end-all of werewolf law, there are plenty of exceptions out there, the bestiary is full of inherent flaws; werewolves didn’t actually want hunters to know all their secrets, there are parts missing or parts that are wrong. I just- I thought, I thought you wanted to leave the pack.” Derek’s voice dwindled from annoyance and disbelief to reserved. Guarded.

“You acted so cut off and then you said you never wanted the bite, and then you just, stopped showing up to pack meetings, you ignored the pack at school, I nev- _we_ never saw you. Then you went off on a solo witch mission like you didn’t need the pack anymore, and then I thought I’d finally gotten you to give the pack a chance again, you said you _wanted_ to come back so I thought it must be that you didn’t want to be treated by the pack like you were; you always sit on the floor at meetings and you always get roughed up and spoken over, so I tried to get the pack to act nicely but they just took advantage of you and I was,” Derek’s eyes were wide, and his hands were out in front of his trying to explain along with him, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever heard Derek say this much at once, even at pack meetings, “I was scared. I was scared you were going to leave the pack.”

Silence rang around the room for minutes while Stiles tried to absorb the information he’d just been given. He was pack. Not pack-adjacent. Pack. Actual pack-pack.

He had been pack the entire time. Apparently.

“But the bestiary-”

“Isn’t always right.” Derek finished.

“I thought you said you were gonna stop the pack talking over me.” Derek looked stricken for a moment, until he saw the corners of Stiles’ mouth turn up teasingly. Then he glared.

“I take it back.”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t take that back, I’m pack, you’re never getting rid of me now, bestiary rules or no. Besides, that was like, the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Derek blushed and ducked his head. Stiles would not squeal. He was a grown up, never mind that that was probably the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life (and his best friend works with puppies). The tips of Derek’s ears were pink. He mumbled at his shoes, but Stiles missed it, he was wordlessly cooing at Derek’s ears. He wondered if they’d go red when they were wolfy?

“What?”

“I said it shouldn’t be. The nicest thing I’ve ever said to you, that is.”

“I-”

“I was really scared you were gonna leave the pack.” Derek blurts, possibly louder than he meant to, looking like he’d quite like to vault out of the window right now. “I wasn’t scared because we’d lose your research skills or your contributions to the pack, it would suck and I’d miss it, but I was scared if you left the pack I wasn’t going to see you again, I only really see you at meetings or here for research, and I didn’t want to lose that.”

“Derek-” Stiles is, for once, at a loss for words, but Derek just said he’d miss _Stiles,_ him, not what he can do for the pack, but _Stiles. Holy shit Scott was right._

“Scott was right. You do like me!” Stiles accused, and before Derek could say anything, he vaulted himself off the bed and at the werewolf. Unfortunately, his momentum combined with Derek being taken by surprise meant they stumbled into the back of the desk chair, Derek threw his hand out and tried to steady them on it, but the chair wheeled off into the desk, and they landed on the ground with a thud. 

“Ouch!”

“Scott told you I liked you.” Stiles gave him a flat look. “Scott figured it out before you.” Derek’s eyebrows were judging him.

“Stiles!” Stiles’ dad came crashing through the door, “Are you okay, I heard- oh.” The Sheriff looked once again between Stiles and Derek, the former of which was sprawled on top of the latter, and then at the once again open window, and sighed.

“Dad, I-”

“Sheriff, I-”

“Ah. Just,” he gave them a long suffering look, “Just use the front door next time, and out by 11, you hear?” he glared half-heartedly at Derek before leaving; this time he left the door open. Stiles blushed.

So did Derek.

Stiles did not coo. Did not. 

He also totally didn’t make out with Derek until 11. And Derek definitely didn’t leave sheepishly through the front door; red faced and swollen lipped. 

Maybe a little.

 

-

 

At the next pack meeting Stiles didn’t have to sit on the floor, because Derek had bought a wide armchair for the two of them, Stiles spent most pack meetings curled up against Derek now. Half the pack pretended to vomit the first time, and all of them exchanged money.

The bastards.

But Stiles loved them, because they were pack.

Pack was family, and family was-

_“Erica, get off my cookies-”_

_“Lydia, we aren’t watching the Notebook again.”_

_“Ow, get your elbow out of my gut!”_

-a handful.

Stiles huffed and dropped his head against Derek’s neck, he loved being pack.

 

-

 

Stiles needn’t have worried. He not only ended up mated to the _Alpha_ of the pack, he ended up marrying him six years later.

 

-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please do no add this fic, or any of my fics, to Goodreads, if you see my work on there, feel free to report it because it does not have my permission. Thank you :)


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